


Mise en Place

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: RSVP [6]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Mise en place. French. To put in to place, to prepare, to set up.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Jack finally gets around to doing something he's been meaning to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mise en Place

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus prompt fill for [DoNotChooseSidesYet](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com) / [callmearcturus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus) who, as an alternative to the previous part, suggested Rhys's AC breaking in the hottest part of summer. As you all probably have figured out by now, I am weak to suggestion. :)

Rhys had kind of thought that after he gave Jack a key to his apartment, Jack would reciprocate and have one made for him. Jack doesn’t. Jack makes use of the key Rhys gave him, and Rhys continues to spend the occasional night at Jack’s place, but when he does Jack unlocks the door and locks up behind them and never quite looks at Rhys while he does it.

It’s all right, though; the whole concept of a relationship longer than a few months seems to have caught Jack off guard, and Rhys doesn’t want to push him. To be honest it’s caught Rhys a little off guard as well - not the idea of a relationship, but  _ this _ relationship, the way being with Jack is so  _ easy. _

Jack had had a hard enough time just saying the word “boyfriend” out loud, although he had never given Rhys a reason to doubt him. Rhys had waited for that one, and he can wait for this one too. He’s finding that if he gives Jack the space he needs, Jack will come to him. Jack is worth the wait.

So when Rhys comes home on a Friday in the hottest part of August to a building with broken air conditioning, Rhys doesn’t think to say anything. His apartment manager is very apologetic; the defunct parts are back-ordered and she can’t promise him when they’ll come in, but it shouldn’t be more than a few days. A week at most.

Rhys sighs, but he can handle a few days in the heat. At least it’s the weekend.

Of course, the weekend means no escape to his air-conditioned office, and Rhys doesn’t realize how much he misses that precious cold air until he doesn’t have it anymore. Even with the windows open to catch any stray cross-breezes, the air presses in against Rhys, muggy and warm. He could head somewhere cooler - a coffee shop, a movie theater, even Jack’s place - but that would mean getting up from where he is now, stretched out on the couch in his boxers, and the heat is making him sluggish. He has nowhere to be for once; staying where he is and letting the soft lethargy wash over him sounds much better.

Rhys is startled out of a light doze by his phone buzzing on the end table. He makes a couple half-hearted grabs at it, but it remains stubbornly out of reach, and he lets it go until it stops buzzing. If it’s important whoever it was will call back.

They don’t, and Rhys congratulates himself on this conservation of effort, closing his eyes again.

The next time he opens them it’s to the sound of a key turning in the lock. Rhys cranes his head back to look at the front door, which swings open to reveal Jack, and Rhys is never telling anyone how just the sight of him makes Rhys’ heart beat a little faster.

“Heya, cupcake.” Jack shuts the door and comes around to blatantly look Rhys up and down, stretched out on the couch, in  _ only his boxers _ , Rhys is suddenly reminded. Jack grins. “Is this for me?”

“Funny.” Rhys props himself up on his elbow, the faint beginnings of guilt stirring in his stomach. “Did we have plans? Because if so I, er, totally forgot.”

“Nah.” Jack waves a hand. “I just thought I’d come over. I did call,” he adds, with a look at Rhys’ phone.

Ah. Rhys lets himself fall back to the couch. “It was too far away.”

“I can see that,” Jack says, dry as the desert.

“Shut up. It’s too hot for moving.”

“Yeah, didn’t realize you were recreating the ninth circle in here.” Jack puts his hands on his hips. “What, are you  _ trying _ to get heatstroke? Angling to call in sick next week?”

“Ha ha. The AC’s out in the whole building.” Rhys stretches, noting with a touch of smugness the way Jack’s eyes fix on the lines of his body. “I’m stuck like this for the next few days.”

“Hm. Can’t say I mind the view.” Jack moves toward him, leaning down to capture Rhy’s lips in a slow kiss that Rhys returns lazily.

“Hi,” Jack says when he pulls back.

“Hi yourself,” says Rhys, smiling, and this makes Jack smile back - not the confident grin he puts on for the world, but a smaller, more  _ real _ thing that he wears just for Rhys. At the sight of it Rhys  _ has _ to kiss him again, so he fists his hand in Jack’s shirt and pulls. Jack comes down willingly, settling on one knee next to the couch.

While their mouths are occupied, Jack skims his fingertips down Rhys’ chest and over his stomach. Rhys shivers despite himself, but when Jack’s fingers dip just below the waistband of his boxers, Rhys breaks away with an exasperated noise.

“Oh come on, you’ll make me all sweaty,” Rhys complains halfheartedly, but his hand is still clenched in Jack’s shirt. Even to his own ears Rhys doesn’t sound very convincing, especially when Jack pulls his fingers away and Rhys sighs.

“You’re already sweaty.” Jack captures Rhys’ hand with one of his own and uses the other to palm Rhys through his boxers. Rhys’s head falls back on a gasp and he arches into Jack’s hands, dick already starting to fill. “Are you sure you’re not interested?”

“Ugh, fine” Rhys says, pulling Jack down again so Rhys can kiss that stupid grin off his face.

Which is how Rhys finds himself bent over in front of the couch, arm braced against the back and face buried in the cushions to muffle himself as Jack works him open with his tongue and fingers. The wet noises Jack is making are  _ obscene _ , and Rhys feels like he’s going to shake apart before Jack even gets his dick in him.

“Come  _ on _ , I’m ready, I’m-” Rhys doesn’t know how Jack reduces him to begging so quickly, but he  _ does, _ he always does. Rhys pushes himself up a little so he can look back over his shoulder. “Just  _ fuck me _ already,  _ please, _ Jack.“

It’s the  _ please _ that does it, just like Rhys knew it would. Jack likes hearing Rhys ask. Sometimes he likes to wait, to drive Rhys right up to the edge until he’s a mess of  _ please  _ and  _ yes _ and  _ Jack _ . Times like today, though, Jack pulls back as soon as the word leaves Rhys’ mouth. He plants a kiss on the base of Rhys spine and moves to stand up.

“Wait, where are you-” Rhys twists a little more to see better.

Jack winks and gives Rhys’ ass a proprietary pat. “Don’t move, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a second.” Then he heads for Rhys’ bedroom, and Rhys grumbles but stays put. He buries his face back in the cushions and tries not to think about what he must look like, bent over and on display, wet and dripping from Jack’s ministrations. His cock twitches between his legs anyway, and Rhys shifts toward the couch to try to get some friction on it.

“I thought I told you not to move.” Jack’s voice is playful as he resettles behind Rhys, and Rhys growls faintly at him.

“Taking too long.” Rhys tries to move back toward Jack, and Jack’s hands catch his hips, steadying him.

“Heh. I got you.” Jack positions the head of his cock, now slick with lube, against Rhys’ hole, then pulls Rhys slowly back onto it. Rhys grits his teeth against the stretch. Even with preparation, it still feels like Jack is splitting him open every time, but soon the spreading warmth overtakes the initial discomfort and he wants _more_.

Jack knows him pretty well by now, though, and Jack pulls him up and back so Rhys is spread out over Jack’s lap, impaled on his dick. Jack noses into the bend of Rhys’ neck. “You ready to move, babe?”

Rhys grins and rolls his hips back in answer, savoring the way Jack’s breath hitches against his neck.

Rhys gets to set the pace this way, and he does, moving himself on Jack’s dick as Jack’s hands roam up and down Rhys’ legs and sides. Jack meets him with tiny little thrusts, but he lets Rhys take the lead and Rhys takes his time, enjoying the slow build in his stomach. His legs are going to kill him for this tomorrow, but for now all that matters is the roll of Jack’s body against his.

It’s almost too hot for this, sweat dripping and bodies sliding against each other, but Rhys lets the heat outside mingle with the warmth spreading within, until it feels like Jack’s hands are the only things keeping him anchored in a sea of sensation. His orgasm takes him by surprise, a slow crescendo that washes over him with one of Jack’s hands slowly stroking Rhys’ cock and the other tracing Rhys’ throat. Rhys shakes through it, but Jack holds him steady, grunting against his shoulder as he comes himself a few moments later. 

Rhy leans forward, letting Jack’s softening cock slip out of him. He turns and leans back against the couch, pulling Jack down for a thorough kiss. It’s slow, without urgency, and Rhys lets the moment sink into his bones.

When he pulls back he’s suddenly aware that they are both incredibly sticky, covered in sweat and other bodily fluids. Rhys would say “I told you so,” but he’s distracted by the way Jack’s mismatched eyes are looking at him, like he’s something to keep.

It’s not really that important anyway.

(He does insist they shower, though.)

Even directly out of the shower, Rhys can feel the perspiration breaking out again on his skin and the thought of doing pretty much anything else in this heat makes him want to...not.

Jack seems to feel the same. “Christ, it’s like a frickin’ sauna in here. When did they say your AC would be back online?”

Rhys hums, running his fingers through his wet hair. “Next week sometime. Maybe Monday. Maybe later.” He’s trying not to think about it.

Jack pulls up his jeans and fiddles with the fly before zipping up, like he’s thinking. “Why don’t you just come stay at my place? Then you won’t broil to death.” He puts one hand in his pocket, fingers curling around something.

Rhys checks his hair in the mirror one last time and then turns back toward Jack, talking as he does. “Well, unless you plan on me lounging around all day like some sort of kept man, I’d need my own-” he stops when he sees what Jack’s holding out to him. “Oh.”

It’s a key, one that matches the one Jack uses on his apartment door, only this one is shiny and new where Jack’s is worn with use.

Jack normally talks quickly, but the words seem to almost trip over themselves to get out of his mouth. “Had it made a while ago. Couldn’t really find the right time to - well, now seems like a good time. It’s yours if you want it. I mean. It’s mine, but it’s yours - Jesus, say something, save me from myself.”

“You big nerd.” Rhys knows the grin on his face is a little goofy, but the look of relief on Jack’s face more than makes up for it. Rhys takes the key out of Jack’s fingers and Jack’s shoulders relax, tension draining out of them. 

Rhys hooks his fingers through the belt loops on Jack’s jeans. “C’mere.” He pulls Jack close, kissing him as soon as he’s in range. Jack’s hands settle on Rhys’ hips, lightly at first and then more firmly as Rhys leans into him.

_ Yeah _ , Rhys thinks to himself.  _ Worth the wait. _

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Mise en Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581311) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




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